SINGER
PRISS-K
She has had a career as a singer since a young age. People in Abidjan remember her as the girl that sang with Alpha Blondy. Now she’s grown up into a beautiful independent woman, who is outspoken and likes a challenge.
Abidjan is known for being the music capital of West Africa. Many people try to make it as a musician and there are as many producers as artists. In the local landscape producers get to control the music and the artist’s image, pocketing the lion’s share of any money made and putting the artist in a helpless position. Priss-K is determined to do it her own way: “I am my own producer” she announces, “so you have to talk to no one but me”.
It will be a hard road to take but Priss-K confidently tells me: “We African women have been putting our heads down for too long, things are getting better but they are still too far from being ok”. Her travels taught her that there are other ways. Hip-hop is but one thing she adopted along the way.
She’s a busy lady and sadly we don’t get the chance to hook up too often during my stay, but I’m glad I came to visit her. “Come into my ghetto” is the name of one of the songs she is recording for her debut album. I admire her and eagerly await the album’s release – go Priss-K!
Aliman
Aliman’s face looks out at me from posters spread all over town to promote her upcoming record. I hear her angelic voice everywhere: on the radio, on TV, in shops…
As the first woman to sing devotional Muslim songs on TV, Aliman is a pioneer. She is small and always traditionally dressed in colorful rich cloth and matching veils. She sings with sensuality and passion. To my foreign ear, her songs sound like emotional love songs and they stay in my head. I fall in love with her music
When we meet, she tells me how she began her career by going to the TV station with her video in hand. Initially, she encountered disbelief that a woman wanted to sing devotional songs in public (traditionally, it’s a man’s role). Now she regularly performs in front of large crowds – sometimes as many as 5000 people gather in cultural centers chanting her name. Since her debut, a slew of veiled women have been seen singing on TV.
We spend a lot of time together and I see something of her struggle to balance traditional and modern values. She makes use of cell phones and wears Coco Channel veils while struggling to balance a hectic career with her duties as a wife and a mother to her one-year-old son Manoonoo. She respects her position as Muslim woman and accepts her place behind her man. It impresses me that she so lovingly obeys her religious obligations despite the fact that it makes it more difficult for her to follow her dream.
She is a serious soul who only really smiles when she is singing. It’s not easy for her: she cannot read and write so she depends on the help of others to manage her career. On top of this, she has to stay strong in the face of disapproval from those in her Muslim family that don’t agree with what she does.
She hesitates to speak about her troubles but conveys her pain and difficulties through her songs - she sings with such intensity that it brings tears to my eyes We became so close during our time together that it hurts when I leave Abidjan. I wish her well.